Blood and Books
by Nellamemoria
Summary: If only it could be fixed. If only it could be fixed. / A short drabble following Mary Ann after Jest's death.


The thud-thudding in her chest very nearly drowned out the sounds of her ragged breathing.

Her palms had grown slick with sweat. The white sheets she carried did little to stem her shaking hands. Wind had begun to rattle her bones. Brittle tears slipped over her cheeks, but she did not wipe them away.

This was her fault.

She'd done this.

Mary Ann tasted blood as she bit her lip to fight her tears. There would be no redemption for her.

There would be no forgiveness. No accepted apologies. No sympathetic arms to tell her that it would all untangle itself in the end.

Ahead of her, Raven loomed. He'd shifted between raven and mountain too many times for

Mary Ann to count.

Not once had he looked at her.

Together, they'd accompanied Hatta to Rock Turtle Cove. At one point, Hatta had carried

Catherine. Cradled her as her eyes stared with the gaze of a dead man.

A dead man.

A shiver trembled across her shoulders.

It had been her suggestion that they collect the corpse and take it somewhere safe. Somewhere protected from carrion birds and the dark beasts that fed on dead flesh. Mary Ann had stiffly retrieved sheets for privacy. She'd left Rock Turtle Cove on her own.

That was okay.

Cath needed to be surrounded by those who cared about her.

But halfway back to the pumpkin patch, a black bird settled on her shoulder.

Raven had come to accompany her.

An unfamiliar rusty scent drowned out the rest of her senses. It clouded her vision. Clogged her veins.

Raven kept a massive steady hand at her back as they began passing stray pumpkins.

The tears had become chilly against her skin as the wind picked up. Mary Ann tried to hide her sniffles. She'd seen it happen. She'd seen Lady Peter's skin rip and tear as she became the Jabberwock. Watched as Peter Peter cut clean through Jest's neck.

No.

She had to keep a grip on reality.

She owed it to Cath.

To Jest.

"I'm sorry," Mary Ann whispered as the pumpkins grew more and more numerous.

If Raven heard her, he didn't show it.

The ground grew blacker and blacker. Dirt clung to the hem of Mary Ann's practically tattered dress. Every so often, a charred vine caught her shoe, causing her to stumble. Raven caught her by the elbow each time, and helped her regain her balance.

It was impossible to ignore the body of the headless Jabberwock lying on the ground. The scene would stay scarred in Mary Ann's mind for years to come, that much she knew.

You can't just forget the image of something getting its head lopped off.

"Oh," she covered her mouth to keep from gagging.

Something green and gooey was oozing from the Jabberwock's severed neck.

Oozing.

Dripping.

Sliming.

"Do not look," Raven's voice was similar to the way two stones grated against each other.

Mary Ann was thankful for his words.

They provided an anchor to stay grounded.

However-

She dreaded seeing Jest's body. Her skin was beginning to crawl. Spiders. There were fingers crawling on her- grabbing at her skin! Nimble fingers. Gloved fingers. Jest's hands.

Mary Ann batted at her arms, trying to get rid of the ghost hands-

"Do you need to rest?"

"Excuse me?" Mary Ann choked, her breath beginning to catch in her throat.

"Do you," Raven was standing before her, his cloak masking his face. "Need. To. Rest?"

"I'm- I'm- I'm fine. Sorry."

He grunted.

"I'm- I'm fine- sorry. I'm sorry. Oh- I'm-"

She held the sheet to her face to hide the sight of the corpse. Bile was rising in her throat. Her skin was clammy. Clammy.

Was her skin going to peel off?

Knots formed in her stomach and lungs. Acid was dripping down her throat.

Too much! Too much! Everything around her was too much!

The acrid smell of blood. The winding, twisting pumpkin vines. The dark dirt. The dark dirt squishy with the blood of the Jabberwock and Jest.

Mary Ann.

What? Why was her name bouncing around in her skull?

Mary Ann.

She was going completely insane. Bonkers. Losing her marbles. Falling off of her rocker.

"Mary Ann," Raven said again.

Oh.

"I'm sorry," Mary Ann whimpered, slowly lowering the sheet. She was putting off seeing Jest's headless corpse for as long as she could.

Without another word, Raven knelt before Jest's corpse. His head was bowed. Mary Ann watched quietly as Raven continued to kneel, and she too began to bow her head in respect.

She kept her eyes on the ground as he stood to retrieve the head, which hadn't managed to stay near the body.

This was all her fault.

Biting back the sobs that threatened to burst forth, Mary Ann forced herself to watch Raven.

She needed to be there. She needed to be ready with a sheet. Ready to cover Jest's severed head.

Raven knelt down once again in the blood soaked dirt, and though he appeared as a monster, he moved with tenderness.

Care.

He moved as if he were picking up a broken bird.

Mary Ann shut her eyes tight as she settled the first sheet down. Much to her relief, Raven took the second sheet, and settled it over the corpse. She stepped back.

Oh. Oh the things she would've done to have stopped this from happening.

Raven cradled Jest's corpse in his great big arms. Blood stained the sheets. No words could be said. Nothing would ever be able to describe the grief and regret in Mary Ann's ribs. It was going to rot her heart. It was chipping away at her soul.

Her knees buckled beneath her.

Sobs racked Mary Ann's frame, and she did nothing to hold them back. She swore she was sorry. Swore that she would do anything to turn back the clock.

Anything.

But both she and Raven knew that there were some deals that couldn't be made.

Some things just couldn't be undone.

There was nothing Mary Ann could do.

This was all her fault.

* * *

The darkness had become a biting beast. It nipped at Mary Ann's chapped cheeks. Soon, the wind joined in the cruel game, biting at her. Drops of ice cold rain splashed down unpredictably.

When they reached the graveyard, Mary Ann had slipped into neutrality. She didn't feel anything. It was frightening.

It was better to feel pain than to feel absolutely nothing.

They hadn't been able to find a coffin. Raven offhandedly muttered something about respect for Chessian soldiers- the shorter the corpses were out in the air, the better. They settled on a shabby old trunk and a barely open plot in the white chapel graveyard.

Mary Ann began to scratch at her skin. Tiny specks of blood began to form beneath her nails.

Her thoughts began to wander as she watched Raven dig Jest's grave.

She hadn't known Jest very well, but she knew how important he was to Cath. How important he was to Raven. The gears in her head were slowly beginning to click. Beginning to turn against each other and move. Numbers came easily to her.

How could she incorporate numbers? How could she find a solution?

She scratched harder at her skin. Watching, watching, watching.

Numbers. They could be plugged in somehow. If she could figure out how, she could find a solution. Find a way to redeem herself for her foolish-

No.

There would be no coming back from her mistake.

In despair, Mary Ann's head dropped to her chest.

How could she have done such a thing?

A pair of massive hands settled on her shoulders. Mary Ann looked up into Raven's hooded face, and didn't make any attempt to hide her tears. There was nobody left to turn to. Cath would never be her friend again.

Cath would never forgive her.

Together, Mary Ann and Raven prepared to lower the trunk into the ground. A third pair of hands appeared.

The Hatter had come.

Not a sound cut across the graveyard as the trio set down Jest's housed corpse. What could you say in a time like this? Mary Ann hardly knew the two men who'd helped save her from the Jabberwock.

All three stood beside Jest's open grave.

Nobody spoke a single word.

* * *

Cath's dismissal didn't come as a surprise, but it still stung. The White Rabbit took Mary Ann in- just as Cath said he would.

She did not go to the wedding.

She did not go to the quick trial of Sir Peter Peter.

Instead, she remained at the White Rabbit's small manor, dusting and cleaning and keeping her hands busy. It was bearable if she had something to do.

The evenings were always the worst. The chores were always done by evening. Evenings were supposed to be for the serving staff to enjoy themselves. To go out with their friends. To smile and drink and visit the town.

Mary Ann had no more friends.

Eventually, the White Rabbit agreed to let her into his study, telling her that she could read whatever she wanted to so long as nothing was out of place when she finished. Books were her solace. She began reading scientific findings first, like how the bread-and-butterflies migrated across the Endless Sea to Snark Island during the cold season. However there was a book about boojums and snarks and other things that couldn't possibly be real, so she skipped over that one.

It didn't take very long before Mary Ann found herself pouring over books about numbers and how they could be applied. She knew about numbers in business and numbers in building things, but she'd underestimated the power of numbers…

And Time.

Time was measured first and foremost in numbers.

Ideas began to flood her mind as she went about her daily chores. Truly clever ideas. There had to be a formula used to manipulate the seconds ticking by. Supposedly, the numbers moved spiraling forwards, always stacking on top of each other. Always always progressing.

The thought struck her as she was filling her apron with dried dish cloths that needed to be taken inside.

Her apron changed shape as she filled it with cloths.

Could time change its shape if it were filled with something strange?

There were plenty of strange things in Hearts...

Over the course of several weeks, Mary Ann was eventually able to save her money for a book full of blank pages. She scribbled her thoughts on the pages. Thoughts on how she'd be able to make a discovery and redeem herself for that night.

That curious lust left after Mary Ann's third month of reading and planning and making notes.

Time was his own creature.

You couldn't manipulate Time.

So she turned to books of legend. Mary Ann decided that it would be better to fill her brain with nonsense rather than fallacies. She learned that there were many places surrounding Hearts that were far more curious than anyone could imagine.

Winding woods that trapped those it didn't like.

Caves full of talking gems.

Places with names like Whitzend and the Blood Mire.

And something called the Treacle Well.

* * *

Raven came to visit her one dismal afternoon. He pecked angrily at the study window where Mary Ann spent her time. It was good to see a friend. Somebody who didn't call for the beheading of a toad who'd eaten a tart.

Together they read through books. Mary Ann scolded Raven when he tried to turn a page with a sopping wet claw, and set him down by the fireplace. He'd squawked at her angrily.

Despite her best efforts, Mary Ann caught herself glancing at the handful of volumes dedicated to Time. It was too tempting.

Finding a way to manipulate Time was too tempting.

She gave in, and skimmed as many pages as she could. Raven settled down beside a novel about the Treacle Well. His beady black eyes never once glanced up from the words and pictures.

He listened to her as she began to rant about the unknown. About how it was all hidden by an equation or a natural law. It just had to be found.

It just had to be found.

And everything would be right then.

It would all be okay.

* * *

May Ann truly gets the short end of the stick. I'm slightly biased towards her, however, because she's good with numbers and I'm currently an engineering major at uni #nerdsunite. I feel like she has a lot of potential, but people choose to blame everything on her, whereas I feel like everyone had a tiny part in Jest's death. I hope you enjoyed this little thing! If you enjoyed it, be sure to stick around, ad there will definitely be more to come... Consider this foreshadowing.


End file.
